The Butcher of Bear Creek by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2013-04-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

It seemed likely that violence was going to break out at any second. If it did, innocent people were going to be hurt. The buckshot in Marshal Haltom’s scattergun wouldn’t discriminate. It would cut down anybody who got in its way.

Bo knew that, and even though he didn’t want to die, he had to wonder if it would be better to let Fontaine have his way. He would be trading his life for the lives of Bear Creek’s citizens that might be lost otherwise . . .

Then Scratch leveled his Winchester at Ned Fontaine and said in a voice that cracked through all the hubbub, “You got two seconds to call off your dogs, Fontaine, or I’m puttin’ a bullet through your brain! One! T—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Fontaine called. Stunned silence again spread rapidly through the room. The rancher went on, “Marshal, you heard that man threaten to kill me. I demand that you arrest him!”

“The only reason he threatened to kill you is because he beat me to it,” Haltom snapped. “You’re out of line here, Fontaine. Judge, is the hearing over?”

“It is,” Buchanan said. He smacked the gavel down on the table. “Court’s adjourned!”

Haltom squinted over the barrels of his shotgun and said, “So this isn’t a public proceeding anymore, and you’re trespassing on property the town owns, Fontaine. Take your men and get out now, or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

Some of the townspeople were starting to move toward the doors, obviously unwilling to stay there and possibly find themselves in the line of fire. Fontaine must have sensed that his support was slipping. He glared at Haltom and said, “You’re making a mistake by siding with that murderer, Marshal.”

“A jury will determine whether or not he’s a murderer. Now git!”

“You’ll be sorry you talked to me that way.”

“I’m sorry you even came into town today.” Haltom gestured with the shotgun’s barrel. “Go on, get out of here, you and the whole Rafter F bunch.”

The spectators were making it a regular exodus now as they left the town hall. The lynch mob fever had broken. Scratch had shattered it with his well-aimed rifle and his coldly voiced threat. The townspeople had realized that if they kept it up, there was a good chance some of them would die.

“This isn’t over,” Fontaine warned ominously.

“The hell it isn’t,” Haltom shot back.

Bo could tell that Fontaine didn’t want to let the marshal get the last word in, but there really wasn’t anything left to say. Fontaine turned and stalked toward the door, followed by his sons, both of whom glowered darkly at Bo before they turned away. The Rafter F punchers filed out behind them.

The courtroom emptied in a matter of moments except for Bo, Scratch, Marshal Haltom, and Judge Buchanan. The judge slumped back in his chair and heaved a sigh. Beads of sweat stood out on his beefy face.

“That was a near thing,” he said.

“I don’t reckon Fontaine knows just how tight my finger was on the trigger,” Scratch said.

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